


Fast Enough to get in Trouble

by StupidGenius



Series: Can’t Backflip off Buildings if You’re Dead (Or Without Friends to Cheer You on) [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe – Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Foggy and Karen met in college instead of Foggy and Matt, Hurt Matt Murdock, Mature rating for graphic depictions of wounds and shit, Minor Karen Page/Claire Temple, because when isn’t he hurt???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 17:51:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10995918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StupidGenius/pseuds/StupidGenius
Summary: (“You know,” he sucks in a breath. “Most people, they find a bleeding masked man in the garbage, they call the police.” Not exactly smart of him, but he’s curious.“See?!” the man says (loudly, ow). “Evenheagrees with me!”“We arenotcalling the police, Foggy.” The other woman hisses.Okay, who names their sonFoggy?)Foggy and Karen find a man in the garbage. And, because the universe it totally out to get him, their lives are never the same again.





	Fast Enough to get in Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for this fandom? IDK what happened honestly, i liked Daredevil when it first came out of Netflix but not like, to the point where i read fanfic for it. And then around christmas I decided to rewatch the series (again) and this happened???????? like a week later i was buried in MattFoggy hell. Anyway i hope you like it! Not beta read so all mistakes are mine. Also, I’m not a medical professional, most of the medical shit in this is taken from the show.
> 
> this is an AU in which Karen accidentally walked into the dorm and met Foggy and they've been best friends since. Also, Karen was the one that convinced Foggy to leave Landman & Zach, and he worked for Hogarth, Chao, and Benowitz months. He quit and opened his own firm when Karen was framed for that murder. There are a few more changes, and the timeline's probably a bit messed up, but, whatever, it's an AU. Idk.
> 
> (Of course, I don't own Daredevil. Some lines have been taken directly from the TV show.)

So, when Foggy decided to go out with his best friend that night, this wasn’t really what he had in mind.

They never really have a clear plan of how the night’s gonna go when they decide to go off to Josie’s together, but they do _expect_ certain things to happen. It is inevitable that Foggy will somehow lose a sock, or that they’ll order a few more drinks than they should because they really do hate their jobs sometimes. It’s absolutely possible that they’ll talk about all the hot people they’ve seen and if they’ve got the cell numbers of said hot people. Those are _expected_. Typical.

What is _not_ expected and is, _really, not at all_ typical is walking out of the bar to find some dude bleeding out in the trash.

Oh, sorry.

Not just some dude.

‘Some Dude’ wouldn’t be dressed head to toe in black, or have a mask covering half his (bruised, probably devastatingly handsome) face.

No, Foggy and Karen find the fucking _Devil of Hell’s Kitchen_ in the trash.

“Oh my god.” Karen breathes. She’s got a hand pressed to her mouth, and honestly, Foggy would probably be doing the same if he could feel his arms. “Oh my god. It’s him.”

“Yeah, I got that.”

“It’s the man in the mask.”

“Yup. And he’s – he’s in the trash.”

“He’s hurt.” She starts digging around in her purse, which – really not the best time for a picture, Karen. “He’s bleeding in a trash bin, that can’t be sanitary.”

“Maybe. This really isn’t a great time for a picture, don’t you think?” He blurts. She gives him a look. It’s only slightly blurry.

Maybe they wouldn’t have gotten so drunk if they knew what they would be doing tonight.

“I’m not taking a picture. I’ve got a. A nurse friend.”

“Nurse Hottie?”

Yeah. No one’s really winning awards for creativity, here.

Nurse Hottie, as they’ve so aptly named her, is the nurse that Karen first met when she tripped down some stairs and twisted her ankle. Foggy has yet to actually meet her, but apparently she’s the “most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. And she’s so smart” (Karen’s words), so.

“Yeah. Her name’s Claire.”

“Wait, you got her number? Nice!” Foggy grins. Karen’s cheeks, already red from the alcohol and the cold, go even darker.

“Yeah, I was gonna tell you after I texted her later, but –”

The guy groans, and it sounds pretty terrible, not gonna lie. It also reminds them why, exactly, Karen is currently calling Nurse Hottie – uh. Claire.

“Wait.” Foggy shakes his head. “We can’t just call you’re nurse friend, dude! This is. This guy’s a vigilante! We should be calling the police!”

“So they can, what? Arrest him? I know you don’t really like him, Foggy, but he’s a good guy.” She argues. “He saved my life, remember?! I could be dead right now if it weren’t for him!”

“Yeah, and that was really amazing and I’m really grateful you’re, you know, _alive_ right now, but you don’t know for sure he’s a good guy.”

“And you don’t know for sure if he isn’t, so, I’m calling Claire.”

“I –”

“ _Foggy_.” She snaps.

Damn it.

“Fine, whatever.” He grumbles. She sighs, going back to her phone.

“Claire?” Karen says into the phone. Foggy busies himself with making sure the man in the mask doesn’t die, or something. Foggy doesn’t agree with everything he’s doing, exactly, but he has to admit that the streets do feel a bit safer. Plus, he _did_ save Karen once. “Hey, it’s – it’s Karen. Um, did I wake you?...Yeah, I know it’s a little late, but, I’ve kind of got an emergency? I was wondering if you could come get me and a few friends of mine? We’re, uh, we’re right outside this bar…Josie’s. Yeah? Thanks so much, seriously, I owe you. Okay. Bye.”

“She’s coming?” He wonders.

“Yeah. I think it’s better we tell her about all… _this_ …when she gets here.”

Foggy glances at the trash.

Yeah.

That’s probably best.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You know, when you asked if I could pick up you and your friends, this isn’t exactly what I pictured.” Claire huffs.

Yeah, well, this isn’t exactly how Foggy pictured his night going either, so.

He supports most of the Man in the Mask’s (really fucking heavy) body as she unlocks her apartment door. Karen is helping, too, kind of. The heels she’s wearing probably make it difficult, so Foggy won’t complain. Much.

“Put him on the floor.” Clair says, hurrying off to some part of her apartment that hopefully has a first aid kit. “I don’t want any blood on my couch.”

“Right.” Karen nods.

They don’t ‘put’ him down so much as drop him, but whatever.

Claire comes back with something that looks a bit more advanced than your average first aid kit, which is probably good for this dude, ‘cause butterfly bandages and Neosporin probably won’t cover it. She hovers over him for a second before deciding that his head is the best place to start and tugs off the mask. Just as Foggy suspected, the dude’s ridiculously good looking. And kind of familiar, but no names are coming to mind. She clicks on a pen light, shining it in his eyes.

And then again.

And again.

“Um.” She shines the light again.

“What?” Foggy asks. Karen bites her nails.

“He has a head injury. His eyes aren’t responding to the light.” Claire glances up. “That’s bad. Usually means brain dead.”

Right. Okay.

“So, what do we do now?”

“We can’t just leave him in the trash again” Karen says quickly. Claire nods.

“We won’t.” she assures. She pulls out her phone, dialing a number. “But I really don’t need anybody dying in my living room.”

And then, because the universe seems really set on Foggy dying of a heart attack or something, the man in the mask’s hand comes up and _grabs Claire’s wrist_ , startling them all. His eyes are open, and unfocused, and his voice sounds like he could really use a good nap.

“ _No_.”

“Holy fuck.” Foggy squeaks.

Yes. _Squeaks_.

“Okay.” Claire says, shaky. “It’s okay. We’re just trying to help.”

“No.” he repeats.

“You need a hospital.” Karen says.

“They’ll kill everyone.” The dude groans.

That certainly doesn’t sound good. A quick glance around the room confirms that everyone’s pretty much got the same looks on their faces, which is – shocked and maybe a bit terrified.

“Uh, who?” Foggy breathes.

“The men who did this. They’re gonna kill everyone just to – to get to me.” And then he rolls over, because _clearly_ , he’s an idiot (of course, you’d _have_ to be an idiot to dress in black spandex and fight bad guys in the middle of the night). He lets out another groan, and just _hearing_ it makes Foggy feel like he’s the one in pain.

And then, another stupid, idiot move – he actually stands up, and takes one wobbly step towards…the wall.

“Door’s that way.” Claire points.

And the man in the mask collapses, once again on the floor.

“This night keeps getting better and better.” Foggy mumbles. Claire shoots him a look.

“Help me get him to the couch.”

“You just said he should be in a hospital!”

“He just said the men that did this to him would put the patients at the hospital in danger.” Karen points out. Foggy huffs.

“Fine. Then we call the police, and they can deal with him.” Which, just a reminder, Foggy has wanted to do _the whole time_.

“We’re not calling the police.” Karen – no, _Claire_ says, um, _what_?

“But –”

“You haven’t heard the things I have, okay?” she shakes her head. “Good, innocent people are alive and okay because of him. Maybe the beating-people-up thing isn’t exactly healthy or safe or legal, but he doesn’t seem like a terrible person to me, so.” She raises an eyebrow.

So.

They’re doing this, then.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Matt wakes with a gasp, all the sounds and scents and pain slamming into him at once.

He doesn’t know where he is. Everything smells…unfamiliar. There are heartbeats – three. Also unfamiliar. He’s on his back, on something that probably wouldn’t be comfortable for someone with _regular senses_ , let alone his own amplified ones – old couch, then.

“Where am I?” He manages to say. The person closest – a woman, he thinks – answers.

“You’re in my apartment.” Definitely a woman.

“Who are you?”

“Well,” Another woman, standing farthest away, “I found you in the trash.”

“I carried you up here. Mostly.” A man. Maybe? He can hear hair brushing against their coat.

“And I’m the lucky girl that stitched you up.” The first woman says.

He reaches up, and – his mask is gone. Shit. “You’ve seen my face.”

“Yeah.” Woman Number One says.

“Great.” He breathes. Even though this is really _, really not_ great at all. Three to one, and he’s injured. Not good. On the other hand, two of them smell heavily of alcohol, and he’s pretty sure they haven’t had his training.

“No offense, dude, but your outfit kind of sucks. Doesn’t look like it protects you, much.” The man (?) says.

“It’s a work in progress.” Technically, true. He goes to sit up, and is instantly hit with a shit ton of pain he hadn’t even noticed until just now, _awesome_. Hands push him back down (gently), and Woman Number One starts listing all his injuries (which he’s already done).

“…and your eyes weren’t responsive to light, but judging by the way you’re acting, you don’t seem too concerned about that. So, either you’re actually in way worse shape than I thought, or –”

“You’re blind.” The other woman breathes.

Well, fuck.

“Um.” He sighs. “Do I have to pick?”

“What the _fuck_.” The man whispers. “How the fuck – dude. How does a blind guy do what – _dude_.”

“The less you know, the better.” He grits out.

He can _feel_ the looks they exchange.

“Right. Awesome. I’m _so_ not drunk enough for this, holy shit.” The man says. “Don’t you think you should be in the hospital, or something?”

“No hospitals.” He says firmly. The man huffs.

“Well, I’m sure this nice lady here isn’t looking for some guy to die on her couch, so. It would probably be better for everyone if you went to the hospital.” He snaps. Long Haired Man isn’t a fan, then.

“Are you a doctor?” Matt asks the first woman.

“Something like that.” She answers.

“You know,” he sucks in a breath. “Most people, they find a bleeding masked man in the garbage, they call the police.” Not exactly smart of him, but he’s curious.

“See?!” The man says (loudly, ow). “Even _he_ agrees with me!”

“We are _not_ calling the police, Foggy.” The other woman hisses.

Okay, who names their son _Foggy_?

“He saved my life.” She continues. Oh. He doesn’t really remember her, at the moment, though that could be because of the massive amounts of pain he’s in.

“He’s a _criminal_ , K –”

“Why are you helping me?” He interrupts.

“Maybe the less you know about _us_ , the better.” The first woman says, with just a hint of sarcasm. Alright. Fine.

“Can I get a name, at least?” he pauses. “And Foggy can’t be real.”

‘Foggy’ sputters, and the farthest woman tries to stifle a snort.

“Okay, first of all? Rude. And, second, don’t you think it’s a little unfair of you to ask us our names when –”

“Claire.” The first woman offers.

“Karen.” The other says. Matt waits.

“Foggy.” He snaps. It doesn’t…sound like a lie. How unfortunate for him. “Do we get to know yours, by any chance?”

If he was a more trusting person, maybe.

“Aright.” Foggy says after a moment. “Let’s go with Mike, then.”

“Mike?” Claire questions. Foggy makes a noise.

“An ex. Kind of an asshole.”

“Oh yeah! I remember him. ‘Kind of an asshole’ is an understatement.” Karen says.

“Thank you.” He blurts. He doesn’t exactly trust these people, but they seem nice enough, and they’re helping him. They haven’t called the police, though clearly one of the wants to. And, who knows what would have happened if someone else had found him? He could be dead right now if it weren’t for them. “All of you.”

“Get some rest.” Claire tells him, patting (so gently) his shoulder. “You’ll need it.”

 

 

\---

 

_The last person Foggy would ever expect to walk into his dorm room is a tall, hot blonde (okay, maybe leaning more towards ginger) woman. She takes a few steps into the room and closes the door before looking up._

_“You’re not Allison Martin.” She says. Foggy shakes his head._

_“Not really, no.”_

_She glances down at the paper in her hands, frowning._

_“Room 312?” He nods. “Okay, so, either you’re in the wrong room, or…?” She sighs. “Or, I’m in the wrong building. Great. Where even_ is _this?”_

_“Do youneedsomehelp?” He blurts. It comes out in a rush. He might still be a bit high, to be honest._

_She smiles. “Yeah. That’d be great, thanks. I’m Karen.” She holds out a hand._

_“Foggy.” He shakes it. She raises and eyebrow. “Okay. It’s Franklin, but, come on. Do I look like a Franklin to you?”_

_“No. I guess not.”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

Many more things happen that night, including, but not limited to:

 ** _‘Mike’s’ lung collapsing_** (what fun).

**_Claire stabbing him in the fucking chest because of said lung._ **

**_Foggy fainting_** (oh joy).

 ** _A cop showing up_** (while Foggy was passed out, apparently).

 ** _Cop getting a fire extinguisher dropped on his head from several stories high_** (Mike’s doing, of fucking course).

 ** _And some torturing happening up on the roof_** (for which he was not present).

Foggy wakes up thoroughly convinced (more like determined to pretend) that it was all some crazy, eel-drinking induced dream. So what if he wakes up with some smears of blood still on his hands in the morning? It’s all good. Because last night couldn’t have possibly been real. Because this kind of stuff just does not happen to Foggy Nelson. He doesn’t ~~deserve~~ need this.

He washes the blood off, gets dressed, and goes to work.

And, you know, maybe this whole ‘it was just a dream’ thing would be a lot more believable if ‘work’ wasn’t a small office he shared with Karen.

“I can’t believe last night actually happened.” Is the first thing she says when he walks through the door.

“Maybe it didn’t.” he turns away to hang up his coat. “Maybe it was all just a group hallucination, or something. We were pretty drunk last night.”

“Claire wasn’t drunk. And you don’t honestly believe that.”

“But can we pretend I do, just this once?”

She sighs, running a hand through her hair. He can tell she wants to talk about it – of course he can. They’ve been best friends since college.

But she doesn’t.

“Fine. Whatever you say.”

He lets out a breath. “Thank you. Anything scheduled for today?” Translation: _Any new,_ paying _clients_?

“You have a meeting with an Iliana Kimura at two, and another with Ms.…Cardenas at five.”

“Right.” Which means he has six hours before he has to do any actual work. It also means that Karen will definitely find a way to trick him into talking about last night, so, “maybe we should talk about it.”

“Can you believe that actually happened?! We saved the man in the mask last night.” She presses her hands to her face. “He’s blind.”

“Yeah.”

“Zero light perception.”

“Apparently.”

“ _How_?”

“Still wondering that myself.” He leans back against the wall. She sits down on her desk.

“I have a theory. Well, _Claire_ and I have a theory.”

“When did you talk to Claire?”

“We’ve been texting.” She waves a hand. “ _Anyway_. We think it’s something like echolocation, or radar? I mean, he heard that cop coming way before he actually showed up, and he could _smell_ him from three stories up. His senses must be pretty amazing.”

“Everything except for sight, obviously.” He says. She gives him a look. “Yeah, okay. That sounds plausible, though.”

“Could you imagine living like that?”

No. He really can’t, and honestly? He doesn’t want to. Foggy likes his normal senses just the way they are, thank you very much.

“Doesn’t explain why he’s doing this. I mean, there are tons up people with abilities out there, and you don’t see a bunch of vigilantes going out and beating people up for the police.”

“That inhuman thing could be fake, you know. People have been saying all kinds of things since the incident.”

“Whatever.”

“And, you actually missed him telling us his whole origin story when you fainted. He saves _kids_ , Foggy.” She blinks her big, impossibly blue eyes at him, because she’s evil and knows all his weaknesses.

“Don’t.”

“He’s not a bad guy. You have to know that by now.”

Maybe he does.

Maybe that’s all he thought about for the four hours he couldn’t sleep after he got home. Still, he doesn’t want to admit defeat. That, and he’s still cautious, and she should be too.

“Well, I don’t think he’s terrible anymore. Doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy.”

“I never said you had to trust him.” She rolls her eyes. “I just mean maybe you shouldn’t hate him.”

Okay.

Foggy can do that.

 

 

* * *

 

 

So, it’s not like they’re friends with ‘Mike’ now, or anything.

They don’t see glimpses of him in alleys on the way home, and he doesn’t appear out of nowhere in their daily lives. And Foggy expected (read: was hoping for) it to be that way. Didn’t seem like the guy was exactly eager to stick around them, after that night. And then the bombings happen, and it’s hard _not_ to believe what the news is saying about him. Though Foggy tries. He really does.

It’s almost a month before any of them see him again.

Of course it’s Foggy.

 _Of course_.

He’s in a Starbucks, taking the rest of the day off, when the bell above the door dings. And, yeah, of course he doesn’t actually care who walks into the shop, but everyone who hears the bell usually glances at the door, okay? Don’t lie. And then he sees, well. A white cane, and kind of ridiculous red sunglasses, which would normally not be important, except for that fact that Foggy realizes that this man is blind right around the same time he realizes that he recognizes that beautiful jaw and those bruised knuckles. And, judging by the way this dude pauses in the doorway, tenses, and starts turning around, it’s probably obvious he knows who Foggy is, and that he’s there.

And now, because his brain and his body are apparently no longer connected, he _goes after him_.

“Wait!” He calls, almost jogging out the shop. Mike stops a few paces away, back turned towards him. “I’m not gonna, like, announce to everyone what happened that night, dude. Come back and get your coffee, Jesus.”

Mike turns.

“I shouldn’t be around you.” He says, finally. His voice isn’t as gravelly and deep as Foggy remembers. On the other, _terrible_ hand, however, he is totally hotter now that his face isn’t bruised and bleeding.

This is all very bad for Foggy’s sanity. And his poor, bisexual heart.

“Shouldn’t I be the one to decide that?” He says. And, normally he would totally agree with Mike, but his mouth really doesn’t want to listen to him and just keeps saying stupid shit anyway.

“I’m not very confident in your decision-making skills, at the moment.”

“Rude. _Again_.” He rolls his eyes. “Come on.”

Mike would probably be giving him a look if he could, you know, actually _see_ Foggy. He’s getting some serious Look™ vibes right now. Maybe it’s the head tilt. Mike probably has a different head tilt for every emotion he’s ever felt. Yeah, that’s totally it.

He follows Foggy back in.

There’s only one person left in line, so he waits behind them and tries not to think too much about what he’s just done.

And fails miserably.

Who’s the one who’s always complaining about vigilantes thinking they can totally ignore the law and do their own thing? Foggy Nelson, that’s who. And who just invited a certain blind masked vigilante to have some coffee with him after he literally stopped said vigilante in the middle of the sidewalk? _Foggy Fucking Nelson_.

Karen’s gonna have a field day.

“Hey Foggy.” Laura, the girl behind the counter who seems to be there every time Foggy is, smiles at him. And then she glances behind him. “Oh, hey Matt. I didn’t know you guys knew each other.”

 _Huh_.

Correction. Karen’s gonna have a field _year_ , or a _heart attack_ , or something.

“We don’t.” Mike – no, _Matt_ – says, smiling like he’s made of sunshine and puppies.

Foggy picks his jaw up off the floor. “Uh, right. Yeah. I just, um. Helped him with something. Recently.”

“Great.” She nods, because she doesn’t really care, of course. Being friendly is her job. “What can I get you guys?”

And Matt rattles off not just his order (A disgusting, sugarless, flavorless, foamless cappuccino. Heathen), but also Foggy’s.

“How did you know that?” He hisses. Matt doesn’t look at him, but – yeah. Definitely pink on his cheeks.

“I heard you order it. A few days ago.”

“You heard me order it.” Foggy’s pretty sure that if his eyebrows go any higher, they’ll become part of his hair line. “You came by here a days ago, heard me order a drink, and you _remembered_ it.”

“I have excellent memory, okay?” Matt says, quickly. “I just did it so you wouldn’t realize I paid for everything.”

“I’d be more surprised if you weren’t an actual _ninja_.”

“Can you not say things like that in public?” Matt whispers. He looks tense. Laura calls their names, sliding their drinks across the counter.

“Right. Sorry.” Matt grabs the drink with his name on it.

This was a mistake, probably.

They sit at a tiny table near the window, Foggy slowly stirring in his five packs of sugar just so he has something to do with his hands. Matt turns his cup in his hands a couple of times before taking a breath.

“How do you do it?” Foggy blurts. Matt cocks his head. It’s hard to tell what expression he’s making behind the glasses.

“What?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He narrows his eyes. “I’ve giving you a very pointed look right now, by the way. Just in case you can’t tell.”

“I couldn’t.”

No, Foggy is not imagining that little twitch of his lips. He totally almost made the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen smile.

“And, um. No offense, but I really don’t think I should be spilling my secrets to a stranger.” Matt continues. And Foggy’s traitorous brain decides to go with;

“I’m a lawyer.” He sucks in a breath. “I went to Columbia for law school. S’where I met Karen.”

“I went there too.” Matt says after a moment. “Columbia. Also for law.”

“Okay, _now_ it seems a bit weird that we never met before.”

“Did you pride yourself in knowing every law student there?”

“Well, no, but I feel like…” He trails off. He’s not really sure what he’s feeling at the moment. He just knows that the situation he’s currently in is, in fact, slightly ridiculous. “Did you know Marci Stahl?”

“I don’t think it’s possible to have done Columbia Law and not have heard of the great Marci Stahl.” Matt smiles, just a little. Of course he even has goddamn _dimples_. For fuck’s sake.  It looks adorable.

And ‘adorable’ is something he really shouldn’t be thinking about _a masked vigilante, who’s actually a criminal wanted by the police_ (well, okay. Some of the police).

“She still thinks she’s better than everyone.” Foggy shakes his head. “And she is, actually. Better than most people, at many things. Though, I like to pretend I could beat her in court, if we ever went up against each other.”

“Don’t doubt yourself.”

“You say that now, but you don’t know me. I could be a terrible lawyer.”

“You’re not.” Matt says, and he sounds so certain. “No matter how disgusting Landman & Zach is, they don’t offer internships to anyone but the best.”

Wait, what?

“How...how do you know –”

“I, um.” Matt ducks his head. “I have some friends over at Hogarth’s.”

Okay, well, that’s actually not a surprise, considering some of the clients Hogarth has. Foggy’s pretty sure the girl he met once wasn’t actually joking about being able to throw him out a window. But, whatever, not the point.

“And you…asked about me?” He’s not totally sure how to feel about this. This is apparently standard when dealing with anything related to this dude.

“Not exactly. But your name is pretty memorable. I don’t think anyone really forgets meeting someone named ‘Foggy’. Did your parents really name you that, by the way? Or did you actually choose that name for yourself? I can’t decide which is worse.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Foggy gets home, he follows a hunch and grabs his laptop. He gets as far as ‘Hell’s Kitchen blind’ in the Google search bar before it fills the rest in for him, and the articles start popping up.

Matt Murdock, age nine, was blinded after pushing an old man out of the way on the street. He was Battlin’ Jack’s son. Foggy vaguely remembers hearing about it in class, the accident, their own hometown hero. His age. And then a few years later, his dad’s favorite boxer got murdered, leaving an orphaned son behind. Mom said she’d met him before.

It hits him, then, that he’s way in over his head right now. He’s not built for this shit.

He also, apparently, doesn’t care.

He keeps meeting Matt anyway.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Matt’s totally aware of how selfish of him it is, to keep coming back to that shop when he knows Foggy is there.

 He knows he’s being a terrible person, letting himself get involved in and ruin another person’s life like this. Especially someone as bright and amazing as Foggy. But that’s just the problem, isn’t it? You don’t meet people like Foggy very often, and Matt really can’t seem to let him go. Or Claire. Or Karen. Because of course he can’t go to Claire for some help without her telling Karen, who in turn tells Foggy, who then lectures Matt about the dangers of what he’s doing, and how stupid he is, every time they see each other.

It’s starting to feel like he has…friends.

Stick always said friends were unnecessary. Liabilities. Weak points. And Matt understands that, he does. But sometimes, talking to someone that isn’t his priest, about things other than his nightly activities…it’s nice.

And, as selfish as it is, he’ll try and keep that for as long as he can.

“We should all go out tonight.” Foggy says.

They’re not at the Starbucks. They’ve recently started meeting for lunch at the park nearby, which is where they are now. Karen started joining them a few days ago. He doesn’t trust her quite like he trusts Foggy, but that isn’t really saying much. He doesn’t really trust anyone.

(It also may have a bit to do with the fact that he likes Foggy in a different way than he likes Karen, but, let’s not get into that right now.)

“‘Go out’ like a real dinner or ‘go out’ like our usual night at Josie’s?” Karen raises an eyebrow. Foggy huffs.

“There’s nothing wrong with Josie’s. We get free drinks!”

“No, we don’t. She just hasn’t made us settle our tab yet.”

“She’s not really gonna make us pay for all the shit we’ve had over the years, Karen, come on.”

“Oh, she totally will.”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Matt finally says. Karen moves, the papers on her lap shifting. Foggy puts down his sandwich. Okay, so, their probably sharing some look he can’t see. Not an uncommon occurrence. They seem to have entire conversations about him with just their facial expressions.

“Why not?” Karen asks.

“I…I’m busy.” Translation: ‘ _Following a lead on another connection to Wilson Fisk_.’

He wants to tell them they should stop this. Stop the lunch meetings, the conversations over coffee. Stop everything that connects him to them. Claire getting taken that one time was more than enough for them to cut ties with him. For Claire to refuse to help him. For Foggy to stop talking to him. And yet, every time he opens his mouth to tell them it’s over, the words get stuck in his throat.

Selfish.

“You can’t take a night off just this once?” she says, softly. Matt’s hand tightens around where he’s fiddling with his cane (a nervous habit he wishes he could break).

“You – you don’t understand. I just – I can’t.”

Silence. Probably another look.

“Just one night, dude. You don’t even have to stay for that long. Just a few minutes. Come on, Matty.” Foggy says.

Matty.

 _Matty_.

God, no one’s called him that in so long. And Stick – Stick doesn’t count, he should have never said it, Matt hated hearing his name like that. And the way Foggy says it - like they’ve known each other forever, like they’re not practically strangers, like –

“Okay.” He chokes out.

“Yes!” Foggy cheers. Him and Karen high five. “You’re gonna love it, man.”

“Especially since you can’t see what a shit-hole the place actually is.”

“Hey!”

 _Selfish_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“So, how’s it going at your new job?” He asks, taking a sip from his drink. “You look like you haven’t been having a very good day.”_

_“Something feels off about it.” Karen shakes her head. “Can’t really put my finger on it.”_

_“Just our luck.” Foggy sighs. “You know, when I thought about going into law, I always pictured myself standing up for the little guy, you know? Not being one of the many underpaid interns at a firm that works to totally_ destroy _the little guys.”_

_“Then maybe you should quit. You could open your own firm.” She suggests. He snorts._

_“Yeah, sure. Me and the piles of money I_ don’t have _will get_ right _on that.”_

_“Okay, fine. Maybe try working for a less evil firm, then.”_

_“That’s probably a better idea.” He admits. Karen glances down at her watch._

_“Oh, I’ve gotta go. I’m supposed to meet this guy from work in half an hour.” She says, gathering her stuff. He raises an eyebrow._

_“Guy from work?”_

_“Yeah. We’re just gonna talk about this work thing. And he’s married, and way older, so, don’t even start.”_

_“Look at you, finally making some new friends.” He grins, and she rolls her eyes. “What? I don’t think I’ve seen you with anyone aside from myself in the nine years that I’ve known you.”_

_“I could probably say the same thing about you, you know.” She huffs. “See you later, Foggy.”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Watch out everybody! I’m blind Matt Murdock! Woah!” Foggy tries his best to imitate Matt weaving through a crowd with his cane, but honestly, he probably looks like a drunken mess to anybody watching.

 Matt laughs, and it’s. It’s a really nice sound, okay? “Most – most people just say ‘Matt Murdock’.”

“I look like most people?” Foggy asks. Matt grins.

“I don’know, I can’t see you.” He says. Karen snorts, stuffing her hands in her pockets.

“Well, at the moment, that may be a blessing.” She says.

“Hey!”

“Oh, God, I should be…out. Doing stuff.” Matt groans, a hint of a smile still on his face. Karen and Foggy share a look.

It had been hard enough to get Matt to agree to even go out to Josie’s with them. The first few times, he hardly even drank. But now they made sure that he did, and that he ended the night happy and relaxed. Matt deserves this, damn it. Though, honestly, it’s not really a surprise he can manage to think about ninja-ing right now, considering it seems to be all he ever thinks about. Dude was in desperate need of a break that Karen and Foggy were more than happy to provide.

“You’re out there every moment you can be, you can take a night off, you nerd.” Karen says, casual. It must work, because Matt laughs again. It’s an infectious laugh.

 “We are both fine, upstanding members of the legal profession. El grande – how do you say ‘lawyers’ in Spanish?” Foggy asks. Matt hums.

“Lawyers? Abogados.”

“El grande Avocados!” He says, spreading his arms wide.

 “That – that’s not Spanish, that’s fruit.” Matt giggles ( _giggles_!). “That’s fruit.”

“It’s a vegetable at best.” Foggy huffs.

“See, that’s what you get for taking Punjabi instead of Spanish with me. Just to chase a girl.” Karen laughs. “You’re whole ‘I want to know what they’re saying’ thing was total bullshit.”

“What? No!” Foggy slaps a hand on his chest, over his heart, and gasps. “I’ll have you know that Punjabi is the language of the future…of business. Couple years, we’ll all be speaking it.” He sighs, turning and putting his face on Matt’s shoulder. “And she was so hot. She was so hot!”

“Yeah, say that in Punjabi.” Karen asks. He (slowly, unwillingly) pulls away from Matt and tries to stammer out a response, but nothing come out. And Matt – sweet, adorable, goddamn _happiest_ drunk, who fucking knew – does this cute little bounce when he realizes Foggy doesn’t remember Punjabi, like it’s the most amazing and hilarious thing he’s ever heard.

 “God, shut up! Kiss my ass!” Foggy gets out, cheeks feeling like their on fire.

“You –” Matt gasps, still laughing, “you can’t speak –”

“No! No no no _no_. Don’t judge me.” He turns to Karen. “You can’t judge me. Are you trying to tell me you didn’t take Spanish to snuggle up to what’s-her name…”

“What?” She raises an eyebrow.

“The Greek girl!”

“Well, then – surely she would have taken Greek?” Matt says. Foggy shakes his head.

“No, because she was taking Spanish. She already spoke Greek. Whatever happened to her, she was smokin’.”

“Oh! Okay, I remember now.” Karen nods, grinning. “Yeah. We fucked in the back of the library. She helped me pass the class. Very exciting.”

“Wow.” Matt says. They pause for a second, the realization that they never actually talked about their sexualities in front of Matt before dawning on both of them. Matt’s like, a devout Catholic, isn’t he? What if he – “A library? With all those people around?”

“Y-yeah.” Karen blinks. “Well. She had a bit of an exhibition kink.”

“But a library? I think I’d be afraid of knocking down all the books. Last girl I dated wanted to do it in a courthouse closet.” Matt admits. Foggy whistles.

“How’d that relationship end?” he asks. Matt shrugs.

“Man, it didn’t work out.”

Foggy blows a raspberry. Karen snorts.

“When does it ever with you, buddy? How can I help you?” Foggy does the best impression of Yoda he can. “What are you looking for, my young Padawan?” Matt laughs.

“I don’t know. I guess just someone I really like listening to.” He smiles. “Like you. You have a nice voice, Foggy.”

Karen does something complicated with her eyebrows that probably (most likely) means something dirty, but Foggy’s way too drunk to interpret it. And, even if he could, Matt is so obviously straight. So tragically heterosexual. He’s not going to let drunk-Matt’s maybe-flirting or Karen get his hopes up, because he really doesn’t think he can take it.

Foggy blows another raspberry, because he knows it’ll get a laugh out them. They pause when they reach a set of benches.

“Where – where are those benches?” Matt asks, cane tapping against the concrete once. Foggy leads him towards the nearest one.

“Right here.”

“I think we should all probably sit down now. My feet are killing me.” Karen says.

“Then we sit.” Foggy plops down next to Matt, leaning back. “And then we forage for hamburgers. And more alcohol!”

“How about just the burgers?” Matt suggests.

“Lightweight!” Foggy accuses. A thought hits him, out of nowhere, and he sits up quickly. “Hey, do you still get the spins?” Matt laughs. “Can you still get those if you can’t see?”

“Yeah, I get the spins.”

“Really?” Karen asks, leaning forward.

“Yeah, it’s…it’s an equilibrium thing, it’s not your eyes. Liquid in your inner ear gets disturbed, has trouble leveling off or something.”

“Huh.” She hums.

“That sucks. I thought you might get a pass on that one.” Foggy says.

“No, it’s even worse for me, I think. Cause my senses are so…the way they are.” Right. the super senses that allow him to be the Man in the Mask. Maybe they should steer clear of that topic.

“How old were you when you had your first drink?” Karen asks quickly, giving Foggy a look.

“Nine.”

“Nine?” Foggy blinks, incredulous. “Lush.”

“Yeah, um. My dad gave me a sip from this bottle of scotch.”

“Go dad!”

“He didn’t want my hands shaking while I stitched him up. He got cut pretty bad over his eye. Boxing match.” Well. Foggy kind of misses the super-happy-drunk!Matt that was here a few minutes ago.

“He win?” Karen wonders. Matt shakes his head, a sad little smile on his face.

“No.”

Foggy pulls him into a one-armed hug, resting his head on his shoulder.

“He’d be proud of you, buddy.” He says. Matt sighs.

“All he ever wanted was for me to use my head, not my fists. Not like him.” His glasses slip down his face a bit when he looks down at his hands. Or, well, the general direction of his hands. His unfocused eyes keep flicking around the space around his hands, and Foggy wonders for a moment what he sees. If he sees anything.

“My mom wanted me to be a butcher.” Foggy says, to distract him. Can’t have Matt thinking anymore sad things right now, _nope_. He’s rewarded with the sound more laughter..

 “Oh, not this again.” Karen groans.

“I think she liked the idea of free ham.” He hums. “I have a big family, and ham ever really lasted long in our house.”

“I think Foggy’s butcher story is a sign that we should calling this a night, don’t you think?” Karen says, standing up and wincing. Foggy nods.

“Yeah. Let’s get out of here, come on.” He holds a hand out for Matt. “Let me help you up, buddy.” He says, helping him to his feet. Matt smiles, cheeks pink.

“You’re strong.” He says. Foggy snorts.

“I work out.”

Matt laughs again. It’s a great sound.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, you’re a lawyer, right?” Foggy asks one day, even though he’s well aware that Matt’s a lawyer.

He and Karen just shared what might be the _worst_ idea in the history of ever last night, and all the logical, _sane_ parts of him really wish he wouldn’t do this. But those parts must be the minority, because here he is, doing it anyway.

Matt does that stupid, adorable, confused head-tilt thing at him. “Yeah.”

“And you’re, ah, currently in between jobs at the moment, yes?” He clarifies. Matt nods.

“People were starting to get suspicious.” He says, and leaves at that. Foggy definitely wants to hear more about that (suspicious of what? That the blind, sad little catholic orphan man was secretly a crime fighting ninja during the night??? No way), but, not now.

“So. How would you like to be my partner, then?” He asks. Matt frowns. Foggy backtracks. “Business partner, I mean.”

And the frown deepens.

“Fog…”

There’s _that_ again. That _thing_ Matt’s been doing. Calling him that. With that voice. Every time he does it, it gives Foggy butterflies and makes his heart beat faster and all this other dumb feelings shit. Things he only felt around Karen when he first met her, and Marci, and his other ex. And he has no doubt that Matt already knows about his dumb crush, which just makes everything worse.

“I know, I know. I’m the last person you’d expect to want to work with a vigilante, right?” He laughs nervously.

“I’m already too close to you.” Matt says, looking pained. “I can’t involve you and Karen in this any more than I already have.”

“Wow. There you go again, thinking you can make decisions for us, two fully grown, intelligent , capable adults.”

This is a common argument they have, you see.

Matt starts saying shit about being too involved with him, and danger, and okay, they totally agree with him. They often invite Claire over for drinks and complaining about how this is all terrible and they really shouldn’t be doing this. Of course, they spend most of the night worrying about Matt, and what he’s doing. Because even though they didn’t want to be involved with him in the first place, they are now, somehow. He sucked them in, though unintentionally. Maybe it’s the general aura of Sad™ he carries around him. That, and Foggy’s _ridiculously_ big heart.

“I’m not making decisions for you. I’m warning you.”

“Really? Cause it sure sounds like you’re making decisions for us. You know, if you really hated us being around you, you could have left a long time ago, buddy.” Foggy snaps. And Matt gets this terrible, wounded puppy look on his face.

“I know.” He says, pitifully. “I should have.”

“Matt.” Foggy sighs. Closes his eyes. Pinches the bridge of his nose, like that’ll actually help. “Matty. I don’t actually want you gone, none of us do, I just – _we all_ worry about you, and I know you don’t want us to, and you don’t want us involved, but guess what? _We are_. And you can try and push us away all you want, but I’ve got a feeling it’ll take a lot for us to actually go away, okay? Or, at least, it would take a lot for _me_ to go away. You understand?”

He opens his eyes, and –

And Matt’s crying.

It’s terrible, mostly because  a) he’s crying so silently, so stoically, the only thing giving him away are the actual tears themselves, and b) he is _so_ an ugly crier.

“Oh, _Matt_ –”

“Sorry.” He sniffles – _sniffles_ – and turns his face away. “Sorry, I didn’t – I didn’t mean to. To do this.”

“It’s okay.” Because this guy has probably been surrounded by toxic masculinity his whole goddamn life. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not, I – I’ve never. Never had friends. Before.” Matt sucks in a breath before continuing. “No one’s ever really cared about me in – and I just met you –”

“Six months is more than enough time for Foggy Nelson to become best friends with someone. Ask anyone.” He interrupts. _It’s also apparently more than enough time to start hardcore crushing on someone_ , he thinks. “It’s actually pretty slow for me. Karen and I were spilling out guts to each other within a few weeks, I swear.”

“I don’t want any of you to get hurt because of me.” Mat whispers. Foggy pats his shoulder.

“Well, we can take care of ourselves. You shouldn’t worry so much. We chose this, Matt. We chose you.” He assures. Matt huffs.

“You make me sound like a Pokémon.” He mumbles.

“Yeah, totally. Gotta catch all the blind Matt Murdocks I can find.”

“Pretty sure people just say ‘Matt Murdock’.”

“Whatever.” He grins. “So. You gonna be my partner, or what? Cause I don’t think parkouring around in the dark pays much.”

“Does this job really pay that well, though?” Matt smirks.

“If you consider baked goods and fruit baskets as payment, then, hell yeah it does. Come on, man.”

“I absolutely consider it payment.” Matt smiles, which means –

“You’ll do it?”

“Ah, yes.” He nods. “I think – I think I will.”

“Yes! Murdock and Nelson, attorneys at law!”

“No.” Foggy pauses.

“No? Didn’t you just –”

“Nelson and Murdock. It sounds better.”

“You think?”

“Trust me.” Matt smiles. “I can’t see worth shit, but my hearing’s spectacular.”

“Yeah.” Foggy throws his hands up. “We’re gonna be the best damn avocados this city’s ever seen!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Wilson Fisk pops up everywhere out of nowhere.

Foggy only faintly remembers the name ‘Fisk’ from Matt’s vague-as-shit explanation for why he wasn’t behind the bombings in the city. Of course, it must be the same Fisk, because Matt is suddenly a lot more tense and jumpy than usual.

“If this Fisk guy is really the guy who blew up my city, shot those cops, and went after Karen, then nobody wants to see him take it in the nuts more than me.” Foggy says. Karen raises an eyebrow. “Okay, present company excluded. All I’m saying is that Armand Tully is a dead end.”

“You find anything out?” Matt asks. He’s looking tenser by the second. Maybe they’d know why if Matt ever actually told them anything about what he knows.

“I, um, did a little back-channeling with Marci.” Foggy admits. Karen wrinkles her nose, pulling a (totally unnecessary, honestly) face.

“Okay, _ew_ , just – what did you get?”

“Okay, first of all – we did nothing, K, just some conversing between old friends. And, second, Tully really _is_ on an island that he bought with the money that Confederate Global is paying him for all his real estate holdings in Hell’s Kitchen.” He says.

“Then, that’s the link, isn’t it?” Karen asks. “I mean, it ties Fisk directly to what’s happening in the tenement case.”

“No, it doesn’t. According to the records, the deal _just_ went through this morning. So…” Foggy tells her.

“So everything that happened with the case up till now was before Fisk was the owner on record. It all falls on Tully.” Matt finishes. Karen groans.

“Okay, so we go after Tully. We get him to turn on Fisk.” She offers. Foggy shakes his head.

“Yeah, that island he’s on? No extradition agreement.”

“It’s another dead end.” Matt says. He’s got a real hardcore scowl on his face. He really shouldn’t make that expression all the time. His face could get stuck that way. Not that Foggy gets the chance to tell him that, since he’s the closes to door when someone knocks on it.

 “Buenos días.” Mrs. Cárdenas smiles.

“Hola, señora Cárdenas!” Foggy greets.  “Ah, ¿donde esta la biblioteca?”

“You, um. You just asked her where the library is.” Matt points out. Foggy huffs.

“Great. Um – Senora Cardenas, this, ah –”

“Matt Murdock” Matt says, turning his charm all the way up to 100% and holding out his hand. “Yo soy nuevo. Me contrataron hace unos días.” Well, fuck, okay. So Matt speaks Spanish, apparently. Foggy’ll just go on ahead and add that to the list of reasons why Matthew Murdock is perfect (Excluding the whole heterosexual vigilante thing).

“Encantada.” Mrs. Cardenas replys. Karen motions her in.

“Entra, entra. Todo esta bien?” She asks.

“El señor Fisk, los ofrecio el doble  de dinero.” Elena replies. Foggy glances at Matt.

“They doubled the offer to get the tenants to move out.” He explains.

Shit.

“Mis vecinos piensan tomarlo.”

“Damn it.” Karen sighs. Foggy frowns. He really should have taken Spanish in college.

“What? What’s going on?”

“Her neighbors are thinking about taking the money.”

“Maybe they should.” Matt mutters. And, what?

“No!” Foggy insists. “Tell – tell her to stand firm! We told her we would help her and that’s what we’re gonna do.”

“Okay – ah.” Karen takes a breath. “El – el no se va rendir, y, el no quiere que, um, tú lo hagás tampoco.”

“Such a good boy.” Mrs. Cárdenas smiles at him. “Quero que los puedo hacer cambiar de opinión, suficientos como para hacer una diferencia.”

“She thinks she can change their minds.” Karen grins. “Enough of them that she thinks they can make a difference.”  Matt puts his hands on his hips.

“Foggy, Fisk is – he’s powerful. I don’t know if we should –”

“Come on, Matt. We can’t just accept this. I know you weren’t here, but I gave her my word that we could help. And I generally don’t go back on my word.”

“I no take! This my home.” Elena insists. “We fight. Yes?”

“Yes!” Foggy cheers. He gives her a thumbs up. “Si!” Elena laughs.

“He is good man.” She looks around. “All of you. Good.”

When she leaves, Matt turns around.

“You really shouldn’t have done that.”

“What? Fight for the rights of the little guy? In case you don’t remember, that’s the whole reason I have my own firm.”

“Fisk wants the tenements. He’s not gonna stop until he gets them. And I thought we were partners now, Foggy. Don’t you think maybe we should have talked about this beforehand?”

“So what?” Karen snaps. “We’re just supposed to roll over?”

“Fisk is public on this. If we tie him up with an injunction, maybe we find something in the deposition that we –”

“Oh, come on, Foggy, you think we’re gonna trip this guy up with a deposition? After everything that’s happened, you still don’t get who we’re dealing with?” Matt interrupts.

“No, we get it, Matt, he’s a rich dickhead who thinks he can pay people off to kiss his ass.” Karen says. “Look, he’s standing on City Hall with his cronies like he’s already won!” She holds a newspaper up to Matt’s face, and for a second, Foggy’s too shocked to even say anything. He blinks. Sighs.

“Karen, you know he can’t see that.” He reminds her. She takes a step back.

“No, actually, _you_ have _no idea_ who you’re dealing with.” Matt spits out. Foggy throws his hands up.

“Maybe if you actually _told us_ anything about this guy, or even just what you do when you go out at night, we could be a bit more prepared! You haven’t even told us why you’re after him! What about him makes you so terrified?!”

“Foggy –”

“This is a partnership, Matt. We can’t be keeping secrets from each other like this.”

“I – I can’t.” Is what they get in reply.

“Yeah, you’ve been saying that a lot.”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“That too.” Karen crosses her arms over her chest. “We can’t just let him get away with this.”

Matt sighs. Turns back towards his office.

“Okay.” He takes a breath. “Okay. So. Basic tenet of both law and war. Know your enemy.”

“Okay. And what does that actually mean?” Foggy asks.

“It means keep digging.” And now Matt’s putting on his coat. He’s leaving. Great. “Like Karen said, somewhere out there, there’s a piece of paper or a witness, or something that’ll lead to the truth. You just have to find it. But do it quietly. Stay under his radar.” He grabs his cane.

“That’s it? You’re gonna make us go the legal route while you go out and beat people up for your answers?” Foggy scowls.

“I’m doing what I have to do to keep you and the city safe.”

 “Where are you going?”

“Three people stood with Fisk when he addressed the city. His man from Confederate Global, Owlsley, and a woman. One the press said he was close with.”

“Vanessa Marianna. Newspaper says she works at Scene Contempo gallery.” Karen says. Matt smirks.

“Maybe it’s time I invested in some art.”

And then he just –

Leaves. Just like that.

Cheesy one-liner and everything.

“Can you believe –” Foggy starts.

“I know, right?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Matt goes to the office after the church.

His encounter with Fisk and his talk with father Lantom are still are the front of his mind.

Fisk has someone. A woman, who he loves, that loves him back. Someone who would miss him, mourn him, part of him says. A vulnerability that can be used against him, Stick would say. Both these things are true, and he doesn’t know which fact he cares about more. If he’s capable of using an innocent as bait like that. Putting her in danger.

_But is she really an innocent if she’s involved with a man like that?_

Stop.

“ _I don’t believe you went to see this woman for insight into how to kill a man._ ” Father had said. “ _I think…maybe you went looking for a reason not to_.”

“Hey!” Karen’s voice brings him back to the present. He hopes he doesn’t look _too much_ like he’s at war with himself and debating ending a man’s life.

That would be bad. And also mean terrible things for him as a lawyer if he can’t keep his emotions off his face when he wants to.

“Hey.”

“You okay?” She asks.

Shit.

“Yeah. Just, um. Tired. Didn’t sleep too well.”

“That could be because you spend your nights prowling the streets for criminals to catch.” She comments. He huffs.

“I don’t prowl.”

“Sure you don’t. How’d it go with that Vanessa woman?”

“I didn’t really get what I needed.” He goes with. He can hear Karen pushing away from her desk.

“Well, Foggy and I had better luck. We –”

“Where the hell were you, dude?” Foggy asks. Matt should have been able to hear him coming.

“Needed to clear my head.”

“Well, you don’t have any new bruises, so I guess that’s good. You know I hate when you don’t answer my calls, buddy. I always worry you, like, fell down an open manhole, or got kidnapped or something.”

Matt laughs. “I’m fine, Fog. Ah, Karen, you were saying?”

“We identified to who attacked us outside Elena’s. They work for another subsidiary of Confederate Global, Westmeyer-Holt Contracting. Foggy and I were thinking we could get _them_ to flip on Fisk, but…”

“Not so much.” Foggy sighs.

“Yeah. They’re off the map.”

“Just like Hoffman and Tully.” Foggy adds. Matt groans.

“Of course they are. So, we have nothing.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He can hear the smile in Karen’s voice, which really doesn’t make sense, considering the news they just gave him. “Foggy, show him the thing.”

“’The Thing?’” He raises an eyebrow.

“The thing!”

“What thing?” He asks.

“The best thing ever, buddy.” Foggy hands him something. Wood. Thick.  “I drew a version of it on a napkin at the bar, remember? Which, I realize you couldn’t, ah, see. But you can totally feel this version!”

 _Oh_.

It’s their sign. Nelson and Murdock, their names carved out for everyone to see.

“This is…thank you, Foggy.” He chokes out. Foggy claps him on the shoulder. Matt can’t hear anything over the pounding of his heart and the ridiculous amount of joy he feels right now.

He wants this to last forever.

“No, thank _you_ , man. Don’t know if Karen and I could do this without you.” He’s so close.

“You’re not gonna kiss me, are you?” Matt jokes.

“I dunno, Matty, I’m feeling a little something’ – come here!”

For one second, he actually thinks Foggy’s gonna kiss him.

For one second, he _wants_ Foggy to kiss him.

But then Foggy’s pulling him in for a hug, _not_ a kiss, and Matt realizes that this is better. This is as far as anything between them can go, for both their sakes. Foggy may not believe he’s in that much danger, but he is. Matt thinks of Vanessa, and how easily she could be used against Fisk, and he doesn’t want anyone to think of using Foggy against him like that.

“I feel like we should be celebrating right now! Let’s go out for doughnuts, or something!” Foggy says, pulling back. Matt takes his elevated heartbeat for excitement. The phone rings behind them, and Karen goes to answer it.

“You bring in doughnuts every day.” Matt says, turning towards the door. Foggy follows him.

“Ah, but these are gonna be celebratory doughnuts. Totally different, man. We should –”

“Wait a second.” Karen says behind them. Matt focuses in on the voice on the phone.

The smile drops off his face.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Foggy can count the worst moments in his life on one hand.

None of those moments compare to now, as Brett peels back the white sheet one the metal table and reveals Mrs. Cardenas’ pale, lifeless face.

Karen makes this terrible noise, like she’s dying.

“It’s her.” He gets out, for Matt’s benefit.

The lawyer in questions stands just two feet away, unmoving. Emotionless. He’s never seen a less expressive look in his whole life.

“How did it happen?” Matt asks.

“Neighbor saw some Junky they’ve seen in the building fleeing the scene with her purse.” Brett says. “Probably jumped her while she was fishing for her keys.”

Karen finally lets out a sob.

“Karen, maybe you should wait outside.” Matt says.

“No, no, I’m…” she sniffs. “How did she die?”

“Multiple stab wounds. The ambulance got there quick, but…” He can’t listen to this. “My mom says all the family she knew about’s passed on. I knew you were looking into her tenancy case, Thought you might be able to point us toward the next of kin.”

“She didn’t…she didn’t have anyone.” Karen says. “Just us.”

“We’ll, um. We’ll see to the arrangements.” Foggy says, sniffing. Brett nods.

“I’ll let the ME know.” He leaves, and Karen all but collapses into Foggy, her arms tight around him. Matt stays still.

Now is when he notices Matt’s white-knuckled grip on the top of his cane, the way he’s clenching his jaw. He can almost hear the can creaking under the strain. Matt’s trying not to let his emotions show. But Foggy knows him now.

He’s going to go out tonight.

He’s going to do something reckless.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_“Foggy.” Karen says, and the way she says it – it’s got Foggy on high alert in an instant. Not that he wasn’t already anxious as shit. He told her to stay put, that he was just going to pick up some stuff from the grocery store down the street. He should have never left her alone._

_“Karen? What’s wrong? What happened? Are you okay?” He’s already walking away from his cart, who the fuck cares about groceries at a time like this?_

_“I – I – they were_ here, _Foggy.” She says, shaky. “They – they were in my apartment.”_

_He doesn’t know who ‘they’ are, but it doesn’t sound like that was a good thing._

_“I’m coming back right now. Stay put.” He assures her._

_“He saved me.” She sobs. “He came and – I don’t even know how he knew.”_

_“Who?” More sobs. “Karen!”_

_“The man in the mask.” She finally chokes out. “He saved my life._ ”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Looking back, Foggy shouldn’t have let him leave.

Matt hardly spoke at Josie’s, other than to tell them he thought Ms. Cardenas’ death wasn’t due to some random junkie and to order everyone more alcohol. He saw the look on Matt’s face. Knew he was going to do something potentially stupid and possibly life ending. And he just – he let it happen. He ignored it in favor of getting super drunk with Karen. Because that’s what he wanted to do. That’s how he mourned. He just needed to drink until he forgot his own name, forgot his problems, just once.

He shouldn’t have.

“Matt!” He calls, banging on Matt’s loft door. “Come on, Matt! I need to talk to you! Matt!” He’s drunk, and probably crying, but he doesn’t care. “We – we need to keep going, Matt. We’re gonna nail that bastard to the wall. We’re gonna make him pay, for Elena, for _everything_ , but – but we’re gonna do that _together_ , okay? Matt? Please, M –”

There’s a loud crash from the other side of the door, and Foggy jumps back, heart hammering.

“Matt!?” he calls. Fuck, there better not be, like, ninjas or drug dealers in there. _Shit_. “Are you okay in there? Matty?”

No response.

Shit, _fuck_. Okay. He runs up to the roof access, thanking whoever’s up there that Matt didn’t lock it.

“Matt?” he walks down the steps slowly. “I heard a crash. Buddy?”

At first glance, the loft looks fine. The windows are all intact, the couch looks okay. There are no people lying around or more crashing noises. But then he notices the coat rack and small round table toppled over in the corner. When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, the floor’s actually broken. His heart’s in his throat. Foggy suddenly feels a lot more sober than he did a few minutes ago. He grabs the closest thing to him – Matt’s cane – and holds it up, just in case.

“I-if there’s anyone in here who’s not supposed to be, I will mess you up. I’m n-not kidding.” He stammers out.

And then the door next to him opens.

For a split second, he’s totally ready to bash someone over the head. But then his eyes adjust. He lowers the cane.

“Matt?” Matt groans in response, his hand on his stomach. “Dude, are you –”

Matt just topples over. He drops to his knees before the rest of his body just crashes onto the carpet, a weak moan coming from his mouth. Foggy drops down beside him, panicked and afraid, hands hovering.

“Matt! Matt, Matty, can you hear me? Come on!”

The large billboard outside the window changes to something brighter, and Foggy’s not sure if that makes anything better or worse. He can see the two long gashes up on Matt’s chest, the many cuts and scrapes and blossoming bruises all over his friend’s body. There’s a particularly deep wound on his abdomen that looks disgusting and painful and like it’s still bleeding _. A lot_. He peels off the mask, and finds a nasty looking bruise on Matt’s cheekbone, a scrape down the upper right side of his face, and cut running across his nose.  There’s drying trails of blood coming from his nose and mouth. His eyes are closed.

There isn’t a part of him visible that isn’t hurt.

“Open your eyes.” He pleads. “Matt? Come on, buddy, don’t do this to me.”

Matt’s eyes stay closed, his breathing shallow.

Okay, _this_? This isn’t even _close_ to what Foggy is capable of dealing with. “Okay, um – h-hospital. I gotta – yeah.” He mutters to himself, pulling out his phone with shaky hands. He starts to dial, but then –

He’s hit with the strongest sense of déjà vu when Matt gasps awake, eyes flying open, and his hand comes up and grips Foggy’s wrist. _Tight_. It’s so similar to the night Foggy and Karen first found him, except everything is so much _worse_ , because now they know him, and Matt’s hurt worse, and – and there are _feelings_.

“F-fog…”

“It’s okay, Matty. I’m gonna get you some help. You’re –” bruised, battered, broken, _dying_ “You’re pretty messed up.”

“No hos’p’tal.”

“What?!” He shakes his head. “No way, you’re – you can hardly even speak right now, I’m calling –”

“C-Claire.” Matt groans.

“She can’t handle this, Matt, you’re – you’re _bleeding everywhere_!”

“No. Hospital.” Matt says, about as firmly as he can.

“Yes.” Foggy says, dialing again. And then Matt (because, as stated many times before, is an idiot) manages to knock it out of his hand and across the floor before his grip goes slack and his arm drops to the floor. Foggy sucks in a breath and decides _fuck it_ , grabbing Matt’s burner out of his pocket and finding ‘C’ in his speed dial.

“Matt?” She answers. Foggy sucks in a breath.

Matt’s so pale.

“No, um. It’s – it’s Foggy. Matt’s. He’s hurt, Claire. Really bad. And he wouldn’t let me call the hospital, and he’s bleeding everywhere, and – please, just get here, He’s…” _He’s dying, he’s lost so much blood, there’s no way he’s_ not _dying_. “Please.”

“I’ll be there as fast as I can.” She says quickly, hanging up right after.

“Okay.” He whispers to himself. Matt’s eyes are still closed, his breathing labored and blood dripping slowly onto the rug.

“Stay with me Matty. Please.” He breathes.

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally gonna be one long one shot, but I've decided to post the first half now, because i am Impatient™. I do half half of the second part already written, so hopefully this series wont end up like my many others and i'll actually finish. i plan on it only having two parts.
> 
> Hope you liked it!
> 
> (Also, if you speak Spanish, sorry if there are any mistakes? Despite the fact that i grew up in a Dominican household and have been speaking Spanish literally my entire life, when i try and write it all grammar and spelling just flies out my head and i end up using google translate and changing the sentence around until i think it looks right. Should probably spend a bit more time practicing writing Spanish, when i have time.)
> 
> My [tumblr](http://littleredtheboy.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Want me to write anything? [Send me a prompt](http://stupidgenius.tumblr.com/ask).


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